The Young Llanero: A Story of War and Wild Life in Venezuela

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Kanimapo instantly ran towards him. “Let me see the wound,” he said. Chumbo showed where the snake had bitten his leg; when Kanimapo produced a small bottle from his waist-belt, and poured a few drops from it into the wound. He then desired Chumbo to swallow a little of the decoction which he gave him. “You will suffer no harm from the bite,” he added; “and if you see another snake, cut off its head and bring it to me.” Chumbo, on hearing this, soon recovered his calmness, and in a short time returned to the camp with a large bundle of wood.

Not having much confidence in the antidote, we expected to hear him soon begin to complain of the sensations which generally result from a snake-bite. I asked Kanimapo what he had given Chumbo. He said it was the juice of a red berry boiled into a syrup; and it was considered so efficacious that all Indians carried a bottle of it about with them. He told me that it had been discovered by an Indian, who was one day in the forest and saw a desperate combat take place between a small bird called the snake-hawk and a snake. During the conflict the snake frequently bit the bird, which on each occasion flew off to a tree called the guacco, and devoured some of its red berries; then, after a short interval, it renewed the fight with its enemy,—and in the end succeeded in killing the snake, which it ate. Thinking the matter over, the Indian arrived at the belief that these berries would cure any human being bitten by the snake. He accordingly made a decoction, and not long after had an opportunity of trying it upon himself. It proved effectual; so instead of keeping it secret, as some people might have done, he generously made it known to all his acquaintance,—and thus the use of this berry became universal.

In the case of Chumbo, however, I was not satisfied that the antidote had been really required, for he confessed to me that he believed he had been bitten by a coral snake—which he declared was most venomous, whereas I have since learned that it is perfectly harmless. But I believe that no specific has yet been discovered to prevent the fatal effects of bites by the more venomous snakes.

The occurrence made us feel a little uncomfortable when we lay down at night, for we could not help fancying that snakes might crawl into our camp and attack us while sleeping.

At Kanimapo’s suggestion, he and Gerald and I set off to explore the country over which we should have to pass the next day, that we might ascertain whether there were any foes lurking in the neighbourhood; though, as no high-road—if I may so call the tracks which led from one place to another—passed within some leagues of it, we were not likely to meet with any Spaniards. Gerald and I took our guns; while, our Indian friend carried his bow and arrows, that he might shoot any game he came across.

I kept along the bank of the river, while my companions took a course more to the left. Soon I had lost sight of Gerald and the Indian, and was attempting to go on farther than I had intended, when the sun disappeared behind the mountains, and suddenly left me in darkness. I turned to retrace my steps with somewhat uncomfortable feelings, lest a jaguar or puma might be following me. I do not mind mentioning these creatures so often, for I defy any one to wander alone through the South American forests without thinking of their possible vicinity, and the numberless stories he may have heard from the natives of the way in which people have been destroyed by these savage beasts. The puma, it is true, is not so fierce as the jaguar; but, at the same time, it is very dangerous, as it will, cat-like, follow a person, and spring upon him if it can catch him unawares. It will not, in most instances, attack him if he faces it boldly, but will then slink off; whereas the jaguar will attack a man unless he has the nerve to fix his eye on the brute, when it generally hesitates to spring forward; but it will do so the instant he turns,—and should he attempt to fly, will bound after him and bring him to the ground.

I had not gone many paces—intending to keep along the bank of the stream, that I might the more easily find my way—when the moon rose round and full, shedding her silvery light over the scene,—on the quivering leaves, and the waters of the stream, rippled by a gentle breeze. I kept my eyes round me on every side, with my lingers on the trigger of my gun, occasionally giving a glance over my shoulder to ascertain whether any animal was following me, when I caught sight of a dark figure kneeling close to the edge of the water with a long rod in his hand. I saw that he was fishing, though it did seem an odd time for a person to be so employed. For a moment I thought it must be Chumbo; but then I recollected the distance I was from the camp, and that my father would not have allowed him to quit it for such a purpose, as we had as much food as we required. I had no cause to be afraid of the man, whoever he might be; but I advanced cautiously, so as not to alarm him. As I got nearer the light of the moon fell on his face, and I discovered to my great satisfaction that he was no other than Padre Pacheco’s black servant, Candela; so I immediately surmised that his master could not be far off.

“Candela, my friend, what has brought you here?” I cried out, as I advanced from amid the shrubs which concealed me.

“O Señor Barry, is that you? Praise Heaven!” he exclaimed, pulling out a fish—which, with his rod, he threw on the bank, and then rushed forward to greet me. His delight was very great on being assured that he was not mistaken; and he at once told me that his master was hiding in the neighbourhood, being afraid as yet to return to his home.